Tiny Lights
by orangeknickers
Summary: A year after Shepard's death, Kaidan tries to go on a date. Original character. Implied Shenko. Between ME1 and ME2.


**Tiny Lights**

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**First, a warning!**

Original character. I hope she's not too obnoxious.

Spoilers for Mass Effect and Mass Effect 2, in case you're not aware of what site you are on.

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The heavy driving beat of the music and flashes of light on the dance floor of the Dark Star Lounge reminded Kaidan of the burst of gunfire in the dark. He sat tucked away in a c-shaped leather booth, his elbows planted on the table, in the quietest part of the club. Removed from undulations of the speakers, the steady stream of flickering lights, and the throng of eager bodies.

Across the smooth expanse of the opalesque table, Dr. Elaine Meltzer sipped her glowing purple drink with a bemused smile. Her curly ash blonde hair was drawn into low slung ponytail and her bangs drifted freely across her forehead and into her eyes.

"Quite the place," Kaidan said, lifting his own mug. He grimaced as he took a sip. It was what turians called an ale - bitter, repugnant, and nothing at all like the pale amber or thick woody beers that humans preferred.

He had tried to interrupt when the bartender went for the Syderis ale, but, since he was turian, Kaidan decided against it for sake of peace.

Elaine's eyebrows surged together, wrinkling her pale skin. "What? I can't hear you in here!"

Kaidan leaned in, cracking a smile. "I said, this is quite the place!"

Elaine pushed her drink aside, and a wave of the purple liquid rolled up against the side of the glass, threatening to overflow. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry. This probably isn't good for your migraines, but I thought it would be fun," she said.

"I think you're just trying to get me back in your examination room."

She smiled at him, the fuschia and purple diffused lights coloring her skin like a sunset. It was hard to believe that this was the same stern doctor who had strung him out on a new regiment of migraine treatments. Her methods were brute force, trial and error, much like another woman he knew. Or, more correctly, had known.

The good doctor was right in her crash course medicine; she had helped him immensely. All that she asked of him was a night out..

Sighing, Kaidan gazed out of the booth at the dance floor where turians, asari, and humans danced in leather outfits or their military uniforms, hips grinding into thin air and arms tossed up to the ceiling. The music possessed them; their limbs moved in a frenetic yet organic motion as they were lost to the thumping sounds.

"Hey," Elaine said.

Kaidan snapped back, aware of the pressed leather seat and cold table between him and Elaine.

"Want to get out of here?" She touched his shoulder, friendly.

He didn't stop her, though the contact was strange outside of the sterile clinic rooms, bright and clean. He felt the heat rush to his face, his head, and blamed it on the turian ale.

"Yeah." He nodded.

He payed their tab at the bar. The turian bartender eyed their full glasses at the empty table. Kaidain shrugged a shoulder in apology, but the turian was already mixing another cocktail. It was green and smelled like some sort of fuel. Wary, Kaidan left and slinked through the muggy, dark embrace of the lounge and its dancefloor.

Outside, Kaidan exhaled. The air was nearly frigid compared to the humidity inside the dance club. Advertisements flashed across holographic displays along the storefronts and kiosks as clerks and shopkeepers worked, haggling and dealing. One young man offered a selection of VI's behind a pillar, proudly displaying a Shepard VI. Kaidan didn't think the VI resembled the actual Commander Shepard since her hair was all wrong and, clearly, whoever had programmed it didn't know the first thing about Alliance uniforms.

"I don't know what I was thinking. The Dark Star Lounge isn't a good place except for getting drunk and dancing. Not really my intent," Elaine said as they began to walk..

She wore a plain black sheath dress that covered her from neck to toe, following the lines of her body. Around them, others passed in similar civilian outfits, loose pants, leggings, tunic tops and flowing dresses. Without her stark white lab uniform, Elaine was just another lost soul, wandering in the Citadel after work hours.

"Hey, don't worry about it. It was a nice change of pace," Kaidan paused," but I've got to admit it's not my scene."

"I've been trying to get into the dancing and the music, but it's got none of the charm of Chora's den," she said wryly," or the gunfire."

"That's a plus, believe me," Kaidan replied.

"Let's go somewhere quiet, where we can talk." She gazed at him. "My place isn't far."

Kaidan opened his mouth like a gutted fish.

She raised an eyebrow. "Too soon?"

It was as though his communicator had switched to an asari dialect the idea seemed so foreign. When was the last time he had gone to a nightclub? Probably during one of his last free tours of the Citadel with Shepard, before Chora's Den was destroyed. That was 18 months ago. And when had he gone over to someone else's quarters - apartment, he corrected himself. The turian ale sang in his veins, and his chest ached at the slight tilt of Elaine's head.

"No," Kaidan stalled. "Let's go to your place. To talk."

Her red lips curved in a smile. "To talk."

After everything - the Normandy's crash, the memorial services, the investigations, the ceremonies - Kaidan had never stopped living in the memory, even as the minutes trickled past him. He wasn't allowed to. For the first six months, he recalled with precise detail the time of the attack on the Normandy, the exact angle at which the beam had cut through her frame, and the hissing sound as he unsealed the last escape pod to find an unconscious, bloody Joker, and no one else. It echoed in his mind, cold and empty.

His migraines came on with a new ferocity; he slept erratically with near constant nightmares and waking terrors. No one was left untouched by her death and the onslaught of misunderstanding that came after. Joker had broken down completely, severed himself with everything he had known as soon as Anderson finished his speech at the memorial service.

Kaidan had, under various measures, a less traumatic, but no less damaging experience, and while they were both housed in Alliance quarters, Joker made a point of beers at his quarters. "I can't come to yours," he would say, raising his crutches or pointing to his wheelchair," Cripple calls it!" But it was said with none of the humor and all of the bitterness.

Then Joker left. The small studio apartment space was empty, devoid of any sign of life. An Alliance blanket was pulled tight against the bed as per regulation. The fridge was empty, devoid of Joker's selection of beers and stale takeout containers. Even the glass ash tray, inoffensive and lacking any unique characteristic, was gone. It was as if Joker himself had been a ghost and those nights when Kaidan sat across from him, silent and grieving, had never happened.

Dr. Meltzer's apartment, though, was unlike any of the Alliance's proferred quarters. The space was exemplary of her skill and profession: neat, elegant, and clinical with shining white finishes and minimalist furnishings.

"Wow, nice place," Kaidan said, dumbfounded, as he stood in the doorway.

A large expanse of glass opened onto the purple skyline of the Citadel at night. A light metal chain mail fabric was pulled to the side as a curtain. The window was situated on a large raised plateau. A white leather bench was placed in front of the window.

Elaine sauntered into the kitchen. Each cabinet and surface in the kitchen seemed like it had been cast from white swirling marble and precisely placed. With a swipe of her index finger, she opened a metal cabinet and pulled out a set of snifters, glasses, and chilled bottles.

"It probably beats the shoeboxes the Alliance gives you," she replied, humor in her voice.

Leaving the glasses and drinks on the counter, she stepped onto the higher ledge and crossed her arms as she gazed out the window. The metallic curtains caught the light of a passing hovercar and moved to the side automatically. From here, Kaidan could see the Citadel embassy tower, glowing with its diffused purple light, and the illuminated waters down on the Presidium. The modern, refined space, marble fixtures, floor level, and spectacular view meant one thing to Kaidan - expensive.

"57th floor isn't penthouse, but this might as well be to me."

"Private practice has its benefits," Elaine said. Kaidan wondered if he was that easy to read.

As Elaine watched the passing hovercars and lights, Kaidan quelled the familiarity of the moment and went to the marbled counter. Two frosted glasses sat next to a snifter with glass filigree designs etched on the sides. He removed the etched top and sniffed: scotch.

"I'm such a bad host. I get so involved with that view." Elaine strode from the window to the kitchen, her legs gliding across the floor in her black frock like a spider across still waters.

She dropped a few ice cubes into each tumbler and began to pour the scotch. The liquid tinkled as it ricocheted off the sides of the glass and the ice. Taking an offered glass, Kaidan inhaled again, deeply. The scotch was strong, overpowering and warm, and nothing like the strange turian ales or asari cocktails of Flux and the Dark Star Lounge. It reminded him of his father, smoking a cigar with a glass of brandy, as the rain fell back in Vancouver. Gray skies, wet earth, cigar smoke, and liquor.

Elaine raised her glass. "To hearing our own thoughts."

Kaidan tapped his glass against hers.

As they sipped, the silence grew between them. Kaidan didn't fear the quiet lulls in conversation and life. These moments of reserve could be peaceful, or they could be any soul's worst nightmare, especially a soldier's. Those who frequented to noisy lounges and clubs took refuge in the loud abandon and couldn't handle the silence that came when the night ended. For a long time, neither could he. It had been more than a year since Joker disappeared and even longer since the crash and Shepard's death. Here he was trying to pull himself from the solitude and live, even if living just meant a drink with another human being and nothing more.

Elaine took a seat on the leather bench in front of the window and motioned to Kaidan.

"When I had my first off-world residency, I got very, very lucky. I was assigned to Huerta Medical Center under an old mentor. When I came here and saw the Citadel, all of this, I was..." She trailed off, shaking her head a bit. Her voice echoed with awe and nostalgia. "It was the most beautiful and scary thing I'd ever seen."

Outside, swirls of color danced above the Presidium, purple, white and pink, on a series of holographic screens. Lights flickered in all of the tiny windows of all the apartments just like Elaine's across the horizon. Millions and millions of humans, asari, turians, salarians, elcor, volus and every other race were living, working, and surviving right next to each other. The Citadel was a living, breathing organism in constant flux, its hundreds of millions of residents and visitors their own tiny cells. Much like Elaine, Kaidan had found it stupefying.

He could still feel the weight of his armor and the press of his pistol on his back as he stood, slack jawed, during that first visit. Commander Shepard was leaning over the railing as he and Williams took it all in. Her voice, raw and powerful, flowed through the chaos all around them.

"I never want to leave," Elaine breathed, and Kaidan came crashing back, out of the reverie.

He drained his drink, leaving only two slightly melted ice cubes in the glass. The scotch burned in his throat, for it was not a drink to be chugged, but left a warm feeling in his stomach. Elaine set her drink on a glass side table and turned toward him. Her eyes were bright and dewy.

"Is it okay to talk now? This doesn't go against regs?"

"Now that you're back at Huerta and not part of that Alliance detail... I'd say yes."

She brought her legs to rest beside herself on the bench. Though she was not a short woman, her limbs were like strokes of calligraphy drawn with a narrow quill. Nothing like a soldier's body.

"Well, I'm glad you weren't busy tonight," she said, finally. "Seems like the Alliance owes you some downtime, right?"

Kaidan gripped his glass, numbly aware of the melted ice inside and few drops of brandy.

"I'm an officer, no matter what. Besides, what could be as cushy as a station on the Citadel?" He shrugged.

"Yeah, you're right." She sipped her drink to completion. "More scotch?"

He offered her his sweaty tumbler. "Yeah, that'd be great. This is really top notch stuff you've got."

"I know," she said with a wink.

Gracefully, she took their glasses, sprung from the divan, and poured two more drinks. He watched as she walked back, fluid.

"So, how's your head holding up?"

"It's gotten better. A lot better, actually," Kaidan said, swirling his drink.

His head no longer sang in the middle of the night. He didn't break dishes when the pain hit in sudden bursts, sending a biotic shock through his system and discharging in a brilliant blue flash. Now he could sleep with some regularity. Now he didn't spend days swathed in darkness with only his thoughts for company.

"A lot of soldiers suffer worse," he finished.

A frown marred Elaine's face and she sighed.

"You just have to know your limits, what you can handle," he added. Rhana's dark eyes flashed in his mind, her mouth gaping and arms trembling as she stepped away from him.

Rhana had known the toll, how the implants could break another person, whether it was the migraines, the implant rejection, or the psychotic breaks. Shepard had known. But Shepard knew everything about the horrors of battle and war.

"I can only imagine," Elaine said. "That's why... well, that's why I've decided to become an Alliance doctor. Like Karin."

Dr. Chakwas, Kaidan thought. He had never called her Karin. It just seemed improper, somehow, especially after serving together.

"That's a big decision," he said. "You've been on your own for so long, except for the L2 task force."

"I know what you're thinking, and, maybe you're right on some level," she said as set her glass on the floor and stood. "But when I look at what happened here... all the destruction and death. I got sucked into it anyway. Treating the wounded at the medical center. Hauling bodies off of stretchers and sending them to the morgues. Doing things that I never thought I'd have to do to control the damage."

She began to pace, black dress dragging on the floor. "I set bones and cauterize wounds. I just about sealed up every nook and cranny of Huerta with Medigel."

"Elaine," Kaidan began. "You're a great doctor. You've done so much for me and the other L2 biotics. You saw everything with the attack on the Citadel. You're not some innocent school nurse giving someone a band-aid. You're a physician and a damn good one."

Elaine stopped pacing and sat down next to him again.

"I just.. Your opinion means a lot. Thank you, Kaidan."

She had treated the wounded, the mauled, and the broken, but she wasn't destroyed by it and that was all the clearer as she perched on her stylish divan. A halo of light seemed to have formed around her; her skin shone like moonstone, absorbing the reflections. She leaned into his shoulder.

Fire burst through him like a match being struck.

"You... you'll be a great asset," he tried to say, but his voice was hollow and silent.

"Kaidan." She exhaled. The alcohol on her breath went straight through his nasal passage and into his brain.

Her eyes were half-lidded and her gray irises swallowed by the expanding black holes of her pupils..

"Everything you've told me, and everything that has happened in the last year or two," she trailed off. "Well, it's been eye-opening."

Kaidan was unable to pull away from her intricate positioning. She had nearly draped her right arm over his shoulder at this point. Her eyes and voice were reduced to a series of primal signatures as they sat side by side, gazing at each other.

Then she touched her lips to his ear.

"Let's not worry about anything else," she whispered, her breath hot and heady, leaving a faint trace of moisture on his earlobe. "Is that okay?"

She pulled away and looked to him for acceptance, permission. Some stroke of desperation rushed through him and he pulled away, stomach twisting.

Elaine seemed to note his hesitation and placed a conciliatory hand on his shoulder. She rose on her knees, straddling the divan, and unhooked the top button of her dress. Pink lips parted to her gleaming white teeth. Her throat rose from the fabric of her dress, revealing a knobby collarbone and pale skin.

An image of Shepard's red hair, splayed over the pillow, under the blue glow of the Normandy flashed through his mind. A gunshot. Shepard and Kaidan running through a maze of boulders and crates, dashing behind cover, as they heard the crackle of battle behind them. Adrenaline rushing through their veins.

He put his hand on Elaine's protruding hip.

Just from this one touch, he was shocked by how different she felt; delicate and unmuscled, her skin unscarred from battle. She wasn't weak or out of shape, but she lacked the hard lines and desperate cadence of a soldier on the eve of battle.

She worked her way to her feet, rolling her hips and pulling another button or two loose. She backed away from the bench toward the bedroom partition, and, again, Kaidan followed, his mind whirring.

Elaine pulled the top of her dress open and pushed it over her hips to the ground, leaving it in a pile of silky fabric. Her pale skin was translucent, shimmering, and her stomach was as smooth as untouched snow. She lay down on a white satin comforter and propped herself up on her elbows. Kaidan touched his tongue to the roof of his mouth to find it dry. She was perfect, her lines and curves unbidden and flowing and soft despite her jutting hips and lithe frame. Her blonde hair had fallen out of its pinnings and onto her shoulders.

"Kaidan," she said again.

He blinked and saw the flash of red hair, smelled guns smoking. Shepard's body, hard and muscled, scarred skin. The fire burning in his veins was quashed with ash and ice, ceasing at once. He turned away.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should go."

As he stormed out of the apartment, Elaine called after him, and maybe she even tried to stumble after him. He didn't know. Shame tinged his heart and face as the door slid shut behind him, nipping at his heels. She didn't come any further.

Kaidan walked alone along the Wards and, when there was nowhere left to walk there, he took the elevator to the Presidium and continued. No one else was out at that hour, except for a spare C-Sec officer nearly dozing at his post and the occasional Keeper. By the time he went back to his quarters, the cold sterile compartment he called home, all the millions of tiny lights were gone and he was alone.


End file.
